


An Interrupted Prayer

by GasolineGhuleh



Category: Ghost (Sweden Band)
Genre: Bondage, Dom/sub, F/M, Name Calling, Praise
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-12
Updated: 2020-05-12
Packaged: 2021-03-02 17:28:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,890
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24140605
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GasolineGhuleh/pseuds/GasolineGhuleh
Summary: Domination Copia, with some forced praying and absolution.
Relationships: Cardinal Copia/Reader
Kudos: 27





	An Interrupted Prayer

“Oh…”. Your quiet, distressed cries came without warning or want as you ran quickly through the stone-clad walls of the abbey, patent leather shoes clicking on the floors. The rosary was clutched tight to your sweaty palm and you felt the silver of the Grucifix dig its mark into you. The light pain urged you on as you skidded past the door initially. Coming to a halt in front of the black oak and metal doors, you caught your breath as much as your burning, aching lungs would allow. A sense of dread filled your being to the core as you surveyed the doors before you. Symbols of the papacy and clergy were engraved into them, brutal and beautiful in their imagery.

This was not what you had intended your morning to be. Thoughts of your comfortable, yet bare, dorm room filled your mind and you let out another low groan of despair. You knew what waited on the other side of the door and your body tensed as though preparing for blows. The handle of the chapel doors was both cold and hot to your touch, a symbol to what breathed beyond. Swinging the door open and stepping into the hot confines was simultaneously nerve-wracking and a comfort. The rosary dangled from your clenched fist, the beads clacking together and your shoes the only sound in the velveteen darkness of the chapel.

You breathed in deeply, inhaling the cloying sweet scent of incense. A cold chill dragged its finger down your spine, urging you further into the depths beyond. The ritual this morning had been conducted by the Abbess herself, and you had missed it. You had been asleep in your comfortable four-poster bed, and even the Ghouls running wild in the morning bell tolls had not been enough to rouse you. A few candles flickered on the ends of the pews, a testament to what had taken place only two hours prior. Steeling your nerves and gazing up at the statue of your Unholy Patron, you made your way towards the altar at the front. Your eyes met the Baphomet’s glinting onyx ones as you lifted a candle to light another.

“Bless me Father, for I have sinned in a terrible way”. Your voice shook as you kissed the rosary sequestered between fingers now. You bow slightly to the statue and skitter backwards until your knees meet a pew. Sliding between the wood pews, you kneel on the cushion meant for prayer and bow your head. Taking a steadying breath you begin your prayers. Moving the rosary between your fingers, you begin to recite your prayers to the Pater Noctem. You are only two recitations in when your grip on the rosary slips, and the chain shatters. Beads of onyx go rolling throughout the chapel as you thunk your head down onto the wooden back of the pew in front of you. This day cannot possibly be worse.

You moan softly in dismay and crawl into the aisle of the chapel, gathering your beads in a slow but steady pace. So engrossed with your task are you that you fail to recognize the dark figure at the end of the pew directly across the aisle. It is only when you turn your back to the figure that he makes a noise. A small tut tut sounds behind you and you rise up onto your knees quickly, clutching your fists to your chest…a small nervous motion left over from when you were a Junior Sister.

“Troubles, Sister?” The figure leans slightly farther into the candlelight and his white eye glints with amusement. The papal paint, only freshly applied, appears stark white against the black enveloping shadows of the chapel. “You know, I have often found that the rosary is best prayed when ah…come si dice…one?” You feel the flush rising from your chest to your ears as you stagger upright.

“Forgive me, Cardinal, I must have pulled it too tightly.” He extends a gloved hand to you and motions you forward. You step forward slightly until your knees bump the pew that he is occupying the far end of. You stop, not daring to get any closer to the man. You have never been alone with him, aside from confessionals and are suddenly feeling self-conscious under his mismatched gaze. As a Senior Sister you were allowed to sit in the front pews during rituals, however, you had not had the chance to since he was appointed Papa.

“Sister, that is not my name. You know this, yes?” You feel your face fall as your scramble to rectify the incorrect honorific. He puts up a hand to stall you. “Such transgivings can be forgiven, Sister.”

“Misgivings”, you correct quietly. Your hand flies to your mouth to stifle a groan of despair as you realize that you have just corrected the leader of your Church. His deep chuckle emanates from his chest and fills the chapel, to your relief.

“Thank you, Sister. I am still learning. Just enough to get by on the stage, eh?” He winks at you with his white eye, mirth sparkling in the other. You nod and chuckle softly, the toe of your shoe toying with another bead from your rosary. You bend quickly and snatch it up, face burning even hotter. Papa leans forward on the pew and addresses you with a commanding tone, “Sister. If you are as penitent as you seem…” He pauses and shifts slightly, waiting until your grey eyes meet his. “That is to say, perhaps I could offer you a private confession and absolve you in my chambers.”

“Are you sure, Papa? I wouldn’t want to take your personal time for my troubles.” With the hand empty of beads, you smooth your habit self-consciously. Your eyes flit from Papa, to the Baphomet, and finally rest on the floor.

“Most of my personal time is spent with the paperworks or being fitted for these robes.” He gestures to the beautiful blue embroidered robe, a small smile upturning his lips. “I would welcome the chance to participate in my Unholy duties that are not ah…as dulled.” At this you look back to his eyes and nod quickly. He takes this as agreement and stands, towering over you. A gasp escapes your lips as you realize how close he has inched to you during his conversation. You take a slight step back before his hand comes to rest on your chin. Tipping your face towards him he commands you in an authoritative tone you had never heard him take before: “Two o’clock. Do not be late, Sister. I trust you know the way.”

Papa lets go of your chin roughly and strides away from you and out of the chapel. In the absence of his presence you realize you had stopped breathing. With a small gesture the man had become otherworldly- someone else entirely from the Cardinal you used to know. In a daze, you find your way back to your dorm room to watch the clock, unsure what the evening holds for you.

***

The chapel bells rang out twice- two AM. You stood awkwardly outside of the chambers of Papa Emeritus IV. You had been at the abbey long enough to remember this chamber belonging to the youngest of the Emeritus brothers…you also remembered the steady stream of Sisters giggling as they walked past. You shook your head to dispel yourself of such thoughts- surely this new Papa would be different. He just wants to absolve you, and you just want to confess. You raise a shaky hand up and knock on the door- once, twice.

“Enter”. You hear him call out clearly and it makes your heart skip a beat. Opening the door and stepping inside you are greeted with the scent of leather and frankincense. It’s soothing, and you remember to breathe deeply. “Ah, Sister. Come and sit here, in front of me.” Copia is bent slightly over his desk, signing his name at the end of a memorandum. You perch quietly on the edge of a leather chair in front of it.

“Papa, I’m unsure how these private confessions go,” you stammer, nervously fingering the edge of your habit. Due to the late hour, your hair was undone from its neat and tidy updo, instead left to gather at your waist in long pools of black.

“Ah Sister, not much different than the normal ones, yes?” Copia stood from his well-worn desk chair, coming around to lean against the front of the desk. His knees brushed yours and you jumped reflexively. Noticing this, Copia tilted your chin to look at him again, as he had in the chapel. “A nervous Sister is not one I can have fun with. Relax, yes?” He pets the top of your head gently, ungloved hands gentle on your hair. You can’t help but lean into his touch, almost purring with satisfaction. “When you’re ready.”

“Yes, Papa.” You clear your throat and close your eyes, feeling his hand still on your head. “I missed the morning ritual because I was asleep. I know not if the Abbess noted my absence, but I was so comfortable and warm that I didn’t wake up in time. When you found me, I was trying to absolve myself.” At this, Papa tutted his dissatisfaction.

“You know only I can absolve you. This sin is quite a large one, yes? Missing the Abbess herself perform ritual is…” Papa stopped, tilting your head up to lock eyes with you. “Truly unforgivable. I’m assuming you want punishment, Sister?” His eyes burned with intensity you had never seen before. You had heard of Sisters being privately absolved and they always seemed to be much better off afterwards… perhaps…

“Yes, Papa. Punish me.”

“Sister, no more beating around the bush now, yes? I can absolve you of this. But I can also make your body forget anyone else. I need your consent, though, Sister.” His thumb brushed against your lower lip, and you took in a steadying breath. You stood, locking eyes with him once more as you licked his thumb into your mouth and nodded. Copia took a deep breath in, leaning into you. “Verbal consent, Sister.”

“I consent, Papa. Use me. Punish me.” You surprise yourself at the wonton words coming out of your mouth. Another surprise to you is the fact that you /want/ this. You attempt to stifle a moan as Papa leans down into you, sealing your lips with his as his now free hand goes to the back of your head. His other hand trails down your side to rest at your waist, tucking you tightly into his body. You can feel his radiating heat through his suit coat and it makes your body flush with desire.

Copia pulls away from your mouth with hunger in his eyes, the hand in your hair coming to the base of your neck and squeezing slightly. You tilt your head back into his grasp and breathe a heavy sigh of pleasure. “Down,” Copia motions to a cushion on his floor, clearly put there for this purpose. You move from his warm embrace and kneel on the cushion, peering up through your eyelashes at him. He growls deep in his throat. “Are you going to be a good girl for your Papa?” You nod, feeling your face growing red.

Copia motions for you to take off your habit as he removes his own suit coat and pants, stripping down to his briefs. His briefs are tight and black, outlining his length which is already hard and leaving a spot of precum on the fabric. Papa comes to kneel in front of you and takes your face in his hands, soft and warm on your flushed skin. You breathe heavily, tongue darting out to moisten your lips in anticipation of a kiss. Copia notices this and obliges, pressing his lips to yours roughly, holding your face in place as he does so. By the time he pulls back, you feel your lips beginning to swell and his hot panting on your neck.

“Are you going to let me fuck the sin out of you, pet? Are you going to be a good little girl for your Papa?” You groan at his words, nodding emphatically and shifting on the cushion. “I did not say you could move, yes?” You shake your head, tongue licking your lips again. “Since you like to use your tongue so much, let us give it a workout now. I’ll take the rest of your body when I’m ready.” You sit back on your heels, looking up at Copia as he removes his briefs, allowing his cock to bob free at last. It’s larger than you expected- about seven inches and very, very hard.

Papa puts his hands to the back of your head, guiding you forward until his cock touches your lips. You both moan at the feeling as your tongue darts out for a taste of the precum that has gathered at the end of his cock. His hands tighten their grip on your hair as he brings you forward onto him, slowly at first. Copia allows you to adjust to his length inside your mouth before beginning to thrust in earnest, lowering his chin to his chest and groaning deeply. The taste of him is delightful on your tongue and you hum your satisfaction, allowing him to move your head as his desire grows.

“Just like that, my little toy. Your mouth is so soft on your Papa. Do you want me to use your body? That would make your indiscretion with the ritual better, yes?” You try to nod with how little you can move your head and he hisses at the feeling of your movement. He pulls you off of him with an audible pop and beckons you to stand. “Over the desk, move.”

You scramble over to the desk, not quite feeling your legs through your own heady desire. Bending over it, you wrap your fingers around the far edge and breathe in deeply. You didn’t know how badly you wanted this until it came. You can feel his warmth behind you as he places his hands on your ass, rubbing small circles into your skin.

“Do you want this? Tell me how badly you want this, you little harlot.” Papa’s Italian accent deepens with his arousal and you can feel him holding himself back from thrusting into you. His hands come to the sides of your panties and he rips them off of you, patience worn thin. “Beg for me.” You turn your head and make scorching eye contact with him, his mismatched eyes aglow with passion and lust.

“Fuck me, Papa. Make me your toy for the night. He says to fuck with abandon and feel your lust…make me a slut.” His eyes widen as you speak, and all of a sudden he is there, pushing into your warm heat and groaning. He sinks into you to the hilt and stays there, rubbing your sides as you grow used to him. A hand comes up your spine and into your hair, tangling itself there. Copia makes one deep thrust- coming out all the way to slide back home and you feel your breath /oof/ out of you as he grinds his hips against you.

“Again.”

“Papa…” You pant his name, gripping the desk so hard that your knuckles turn white. “Please, Papa, absolve me.” You feel him slide out of you and you moan at the loss. A moment later, however, he is at your back again. Your panties appear before your face and you look at them, dazed for a moment. The seams on both sides have been split by his forceful removal and they now resemble a long piece of cloth.

“Your hands, Sister.” Papa motions for you to put your hands behind your back and you do, catching on quickly. He binds your hands with your own panties and you moan as you realize you can feel the wet spot on your wrist. Papa tugs on the bindings, making sure they are taut as he slides back into you and begins moving. “So good, Sister. You feel so good for someone who was so bad, yes?” You can feel your own arousal building to a climax as Papa presses his finger to your clit and rubs, bearing down into you faster.

“Pa-pa!” Your cries become staccato moans with his rhythm as he becomes rougher and sloppier. His other hand winds into your hair again while the other moves against you still, applying pressure at just the right time until you feel your world explode, clamping down on Papa as he continues to thrust inside you. You don’t feel him finish until he slides out of you, breathing hard and rubbing your shoulders.

“Yes well… Perhaps next time you will not miss your duties, yes, Sister?” Copia undoes the binding on your wrists and turns away as you dress quickly, shoving your panties into your bra to conceal them.

“Perhaps I may anyway, Papa.” You give him a wink and leave quickly, a spring in your step. Now you understood why so many girls left his predecessor’s office giggling. Maybe you would too, now.


End file.
